


Pita

by mouseinthemidnight, yourKitty



Category: The Office (US)
Genre: Other, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-09
Updated: 2017-11-09
Packaged: 2019-01-31 06:49:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12676587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mouseinthemidnight/pseuds/mouseinthemidnight, https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourKitty/pseuds/yourKitty
Summary: Ryan, an adult, doesn't know how to work a toaster oven.





	Pita

“RyyyAN started the FIYAH!” Michael and Dwight were dancing around at the front of the office. Dwight held a fork with a blackened pita in his hand.

It had been a day since the aforementioned fire -- the incident that had officially smeared Ryan’s already undeservedly poor reputation. The temp seemed to always get the short end of the stick around this office, even in comparison to his laziest coworkers. 

This time, he had accidentally left a cheese pita cooking for too long within the toaster oven in the Dunder-Mifflin kitchen, setting a fire. Several fire trucks had gathered around the front of the office building the previous afternoon, while the confused employees here at Scranton had huddled in front of the doors. Shortly thereafter, the burnt pita, which Dwight had kept to shove triumphantly into people's faces, was discovered. Since then, Ryan couldn’t hear the end of it. Michael and Dwight teased the temp relentlessly, no matter how desperately he apologized. 

You, as a newly-employed paper salesperson, weren’t as scrutinized as Ryan, despite having an equally satisfactory work ethic. You pitied him -- something he did not desire, but something he did need.

Dwight pounced in front of you, jolting you from the memories of the previous day and thrusting forth the fork. The crispy pita on the ends of the diningware wiggled slightly from the motion. 

"Ryan started the FIRE! It was always burning since the world was turning!" He sang out, his eyes glittering deviously behind his glasses, and proceeded to strut around Phyllis's and Stanley's desk. "Joe McCarthy, Richard Nixon, Studebaker, television, North Korea, South Korea, Marilyn Monroe. Ryan started the fire!"

You slammed your hand compulsively on your desk, growing more and more irritated by Dwight and Michael’s antics. You had never spoken up against their ridiculous behaviour before, and you didn’t expect them to listen now, but you had become so fed up with the situation that you couldn’t resist. “Can you all please stop?” The high volume and degree of sternness in your voice was unlike you had ever heard before. “Ryan apologized. The office is fine. It’s not funny anymore, alright? We’ve all had enough.” 

Everyone in the office had their intruding eyes glued to you and Dwight. The thick tension in the air had such an overwhelming hold on you that you felt forced to leave the situation by any means. You abruptly rose from your seat and escaped to the break room as calmly as possible. 

Both Dwight and Michael watched you exit the room, equally surprised to see you stand up against them. Dwight blinked, looking nearly impressed to find that you had backbone. Michael, on the other hand, scoffed and waved his hand dismissively, convinced that his and Dwight's actions had been harmless.

Ryan remained at his desk, also spectating as you hurried out of the main office and through the doors toward the annex building. Once there, you plopped yourself down into a typically uncomfortable chair, huffing and crossing your arms tightly. You squeezed your fists in exasperation and embarrassment, vividly feeling your cheeks grow hot. Bowing your head towards your shoes, you closed your eyes for meditation. 

"Um, hey." You then heard Ryan's voice coming timidly from the doorway. His deep blue eyes studied you unsurely. "You okay?"

“I’m fine,” you answered, unconvincingly. 

Ryan looked your pathetic self up and down apologetically, clearly wanting to say so much, but all he could think of to say was, “I’m sorry that happened.” 

You sighed and nodded, approving of his attempt.

“You, uh… you didn’t have to do that.” Ryan proceeded hesitantly. “You don’t have to defend me.”

“I wanted to.” You answered, your voice suddenly filling with earnest, as you met his eyes half-anxiously. You had to let him know you really did care. “It was also a good opportunity to stick it to those idiots.” You grinned ever so slightly, thinking he would have to agree to that statement.

He remained seemingly unconvinced, but sighed, moving closer to reassuringly lay a warm, firm hand on your shoulder. He went on to change the subject, “I was being an idiot, too. I can’t believe I didn’t know how to use a toaster oven, of all things.” 

"Well,” you paused, “it's over now. And the good thing is you can learn from this, right?... I can show you how to use the toaster oven." You trailed off, thinking it silly to suggest. 

Ryan thought this over carefully, contemplating the pros and cons of the situation. You waited quietly for an answer, your heart lightly knocking against your chest.

After a few seconds of silence, you almost became certain the temp would shake his head proudly and deny any assistance. To your surprise, he slowly nodded his agreement. "That's...” He paused, changing his mind about what to say. “Sure. I'd appreciate that."

Your expression brightened immediately as you stood, and your hand subsequently took Ryan’s hand within enthusiastically. You dragged him toward the toaster oven. Luckily, you thought, the room was empty. 

Ryan flushed at the contact between his hand and your smaller one, slightly stumbling after you as you tugged him along. He paused in front of the toaster oven and sent it a wary stare, as if he expected it to stand up and attack him.

You noted this and nudged him meaningfully. “It’s not that intimidating. You’ll pick it up quick.” You proceeded to show him how the side knobs worked, sporting an unwavering grin.

He nodded slowly while observing your methods. “Oh. I… see now.” The tone in his voice seemed to imply the total opposite of his verbalization.

You raised an eyebrow inquiringly. “Do you really?” 

“I don’t know if it was the knobs causing the problem…” He reached out unsurely to twist the knobs as you had shown him, but turned them too far, which certainly would have roasted any object that might have been within the appliance.

You took quick action to turn them back. “Are you sure about that?” You giggled through your question, definitely still baffled. It wasn’t even a high-tech oven. 

Ryan pursed his lips, half in disdain and half in poutiness. "I just... didn't take the pita out soon enough." 

“You aren’t even supposed to turn them all the way,” you replied, shaking your head slightly in faint disappointment. You knew Ryan could be stubborn, but he had to admit a mistake some time. 

He finally took a sharp exhale and ran a hand through his dark, curly hair. "I just still can't believe myself. I'm in business school, darn it. How am I ever gonna run my own company if I can't even put a cheese pita in a toaster oven without cooking it to a crisp?"

“We all mess up sometimes.” You touched his arm gently, comfortingly, and went on, “It’s no big deal. You have to move on at some point.” 

“I can’t mess up, though. I have to get things right. I can’t be incompetent and unsuccessful.”

“It’s not that bad, Ryan.” It had come to the point where you had to say his name, even with authority. “You aren’t listening to me. The only way you can be competent and successful is if you learn from your mistakes. I know that sounds cliche, but it’s true.” 

Ryan remained silent for a few moments, his firmly-structured jaw set with frustration. After a little while longer, the muscles within his jaw eased, and he gave a small nod. "Yeah. I guess you're right."

You nodded back, understanding already that your suspicions were correct, and then demonstrated for him again how the oven worked. This time, you explained it in layman terms, even though that was definitely below him, making sure it sunk in. This time, he listened to you, remaining attentive to your demonstration, and followed your instructions, operating the toaster oven with success.

You smiled widely and proudly. “It wasn’t that hard, right?” You nudged him jokingly, expecting a reaction. 

He chuckled, letting one of his rare, genuine smiles show through. "Yeah..." Those deep blue eyes angled down to meet your own. "Thanks."

You glanced away flusteredly, reaching up by instinct to play with your hair childishly. “No problem,” you answered timidly. You had never gotten this hot and bothered over Ryan before. He had never really noticed you before now, actually. Or so you thought. Seeing him now, close to you, knowing you had made him smile… it made you excited in a way you haven’t felt in a long time. 

He also looked away, his cheeks attaining tinges of pink. “Uh… so…”

“So, that was fun. I’m glad you figured it out,” you craftily attempted to provoke further conversation. “To be honest, I’ve been wanting to hang out like this for a long time. I’ve just been nervous to ask you.” Your cheeks had also achieved a similar crimson shade as Ryan’s, as you sputtered and struggled to contemplate your next move. 

“You have?” Ryan stared back at you, shocked that anyone would sincerely want to spend time with him.

“Of course I have. You’re a sweet guy,” you admitted this wholeheartedly. He had to know that he was valuable, because no one else seemed to be telling him. 

For once, he had no proud response or denial. The scarlet hue in his complexion deepening, he slowly answered, "Oh... I... you're really nice, too..."

You took this opportunity. “Well, then, we should hang out. Outside of work, I mean.” 

“Alright… that would be cool.” He finally nodded, unable to keep a smile from creeping back onto his face.

You couldn’t help but to reciprocate, somewhat shocked by how it all played out. You didn’t figure that he would say yes without hesitation. He looked away again, wondering about the same thing, but not disliking the way it made him feel happy.

At the end of the workday, 5 P.M. on the nose, you met Ryan at the door in anticipation. “So… ready to get something better to eat than a cheese pita?” You asked comically.

Ryan was definitely ready. He gently escorted you to the parking lot, and taking separate cars, you two were off. 

It seemed that more than one fire was sparked that week.

**Author's Note:**

> Cheesy ending, I know. No pun intended.


End file.
